


Driving Blues

by frazzled_yolk



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, dean is difficult to read and sami doesn't even try to, inspired by a fic i read like two years ago that i for some reason cant find so im sorry, kind of friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frazzled_yolk/pseuds/frazzled_yolk
Summary: Sami misses the bus and can't get a rental, his sort of friend Dean gives him a ride
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Sami Zayn | El Generico
Kudos: 17





	Driving Blues

Sami Zayn’s boots never fit properly. Walking in his own shoes proved challenging when he constantly felt discomfort in his own skin and it showed. It showed in his stutter, the way he tripped over his words as he vomited them out a mile a minute. It showed in his trepidation, his fear of the gavel in his peers’ hands to the point of sturdy brick walls built between them. It’s practically rooted in the way he holds himself. Sometimes, he could convince himself that he had a mild form of alien hand syndrome with the way his arms gestured, flailing madly like the physical form of exaggeration. Backstage, especially in the WWE, they didn’t take too kindly to this. Maybe it was the countless times Sami, in a fit of passion, accidentally slapped staff members in the face or “his unfiltered expression of personal opinions that don’t follow company line.” Whatever it was, Sami’s career and personal life didn’t have too much separation. When your job requires 24/7 365 attention, your coworkers have to be your friends. He kept his friends no more than a hotel room away, yet somehow too close. Close enough for Kevin Owens to blindsight him after winning the NXT title. So much for best friends, so much for blood brothers. Since, trust hadn’t been one of Sami’s strong suits, even with Finn and Cesaro, who replaced Kevin as top dog in his internal friend placement. 

Thankfully, his “backstage heat” never reached Enzo levels of nuclear--he was mostly a thorn in their back, something they either put up with or ignored all together--so he hadn’t been thrown off the tour bus. Yet, Sami still preferred the intimacy of driving a rental, either alone or with companionship. Though, when Sami stepped into the parking garage to find the tour bus gone and no rental cars available, he admittedly doubled-down on that one. Sure, the bus could get crowded with a massive roster of “superstars,” but Sami would rather make it than find himself stranded. No matter how many times he nearly tripped over R Truth’s legs when the Usos, New Day, and former Shield brothers Roman and Dean decided to play “who can get to the bathroom without disturbing a sleeping Truth.

Mumbling curses to himself, Sami yanked up the zipper on his jacket as he dropped down to the concrete sidewalk and shoved his head into his hands, both of which were scattered with cuts and bandages--battle scars from his wars waged within the squared circle. Just as he was about to hunt down someone in the locker room, the rumbling of the heavy garage door cut him short. 

Sami sighed (out of relief or annoyance, he couldn’t decipher), but before he could react, the person said: “Yo, Zayn. You miss the bus or somethin’?”

Sami’s head shot around. As their eyes locked, his face flushed. It was his sort-of friend sort-of tag-team partner, Dean Ambrose. The pair hardly interacted outside of wrestling; the last time they worked together being on Smackdown, where they teamed up as the “Rough Riders.” After a moment of panicking, Sami noticed Dean’s eyebrow raise and quickly composed himself. Play it cool, Zayn. 

“Hi, Dean. Uh, yeah. No rentals left either so if you were bargaining on that, you’re out of luck,” Sami replied. Dean shrugged.  
When he didn’t reply right away, Sami added in: “Guess I didn’t pray to the luck gods enough.” 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sami chuckled nervously. Dean didn’t react positively or negatively, almost like he didn’t hear him at all. In turn, that only duplicated the anxiety boiling in his intestines right now and he sort of wished that he had gone to the bathroom before discovering that Dean was likely his only way out of this state for the night. He figured Dean wouldn’t give in to such things as pretending to find something funny because clearly he doesn’t mind an awkward situation or two. Sami would rather take the 5 seconds it lasts to laugh to avoid the air of pure discomfort. 

“Sure thing,” Dean finally said and started walking toward the cars before pausing once realizing Sami had not budged. He peered over his shoulder. “You comin’ or not, Zayn?” 

Sami didn’t skip a beat. 

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, they sat in a comfortable silence (once Sami finally stopped kissing the ground Dean walked on), no radio playing, no small talk (which Sami had been advised that Dean hated), nothing. The rental Dean picked was cushy, to put it nicely. A little tight in width and maybe Sami’s legs couldn’t sit all that ampley, but it had heated seats so Sami couldn’t muster reason to complain. As if able to read his thoughts, Dean spoke up.

“You comfy?” 

He's making... small talk?

“I’m fine, yeah.” 

Sami would’ve been content if the conversation ended there--Dean’s too attractive for Sami to feel even remotely fine holding his own in discussion--but Dean digressed. 

“You sure?” Sami squirmed in his seat, making himself as small as humanly possible.

“I mean, it’s a bit cramped, but I’m not too bothered. I’m just glad you offered to host me.” He forced a laugh, but Dean didn’t seem fazed. Frankly, he never did. He brushed overgrown hair out of his eyes, sweeping back his dirty blond, almost strawberry blond locks and grunted in approval. Remembering his manners, Sami swallowed hard and said, “Are...you…comfortable?”

“I never get too comfortable,” Dean replied sharply, “and if I were you, I’d keep your senses peeled.”

“Don’t you mean ‘eyes peeled?’ I don’t think you can ‘peel’ your senses. That’s a bit absurd to… wait, what? Why would I need to…?” Sami froze. What was Dean going to do to him? Worse case scenario is always homicide, but Sami couldn’t really imagine of the best case when the acclaimed “crazy guy” in your workspace tells you to watch your back. 

“This is fuckin’ cryptid country,” Dean said, his voice dropping an octave and his eyes squinting cartoonishly. Sami let out an audible sigh of relief. 

“I thought you were gonna… never mind.” Sami shook his head. As if he hadn’t said anything at all, Dean paid no mind.

“Alright. I’m the captain of this ship. That means I’m swamped with driving duties. You know what that means, Zayn?”

“...Yes. Maybe? I mean, no. No, I don’t.” Sami fumbled. 

“You’re wingman.”

“Wingman?”

“Wingman.” Dean affirmed, almost pridefully. “That means you’re my second pair of eyes, skipper-”

“Wait, am I wingman or skipper?” Sami cut in. 

“Both! Doesn’t matter!” Dean brashly replied. “What’s important is that you notify me of any strange activity. I can’t look because I have at least another hour of driving and I’m pretty positive you’d like to make it to Philly alive.” 

“Alright, uh, captain. I won’t let you down,” Sami said, adding a half-hearted salute. 

Even though Sami was sure Dean was only kidding, he kept to his word as wingman in the passenger seat, mostly due to the driving blues. Trying to shake the feeling of insignificance as summertime trees blended into blurriness and rocky cliffs closed in on the road, he watched the woodland landscape as they crossed the state border between New Jersey and Pennsylvania intensely. Up ahead, Sami spotted something waiting on the side of the road. It walked on four legs, large in stature and clearly well-off on food based on its thick, meaty build. Protruding from its head, two branch-like fragments extended to the sky in an abstract formation. 

“Watch out on your right.” Sami said as the headlights hit the animal straight on like a spotlight. As Dean yielded, the creature leaped across the road, full speed, into the forest again. 

“Damn, coulda been a close one. Appreciate that, skipper. Told you there were cryptids.” Sami pursed his lips, but relentlessly offered a smile anyway. 

“Deer are basically cryptids,” Sami replied, “I mean, how can they pop up just when it’s the worst time without having some magical capabilities?”

“You catch on fast,” Dean laughed. Hey, he made Dean laugh! That’s got to be a first. “Hey, don’t forget to watch the sides, Zayn. Don’t start slacking.” 

“Aye aye, captain,” Sami said, a grin staining his face. 

For a good five minutes, staring out the window kept Sami preoccupied, but nonstop fixation on an endless treeline traded artistic perspective for a splitting headache and frankly, the longer he gazed, the more the bags under his eyes felt weighted. He yawned. For most people, Sami could compromise himself enough or find pieces within others that he could play on. Dean was an abstract individual, difficult to pin down into one category. He was curves and sharp edges, circles and lines, darks and pastels, all existing in one contrasting being. Somehow, he had managed to be both logical and bright, yet irrational and impulsive. Anyone could see that in the way he wrestles. Everyone, especially commentary, played up the lunatic part of his in-ring demeanor, but he had this underlying calculation in the way he attacked his opponent. It was a combination of momentary inclination and tactical strategy. However, Sami couldn’t really say he knew Dean beyond those purely observational hunches. 

“So, uh.” Sami remembered Dean’s gripe with meaningless conversation. “How about Chris Jericho and… Kevin? Weird pairing, huh?”

“Sure is. Bet Kevin’s using him,” Dean said flatly. Well, can’t say Sami didn’t try. He was going to press the issue anymore. However, after thirty seconds, Dean continued, treading lightly, “Suppose that’s tough for you. It’s like that bastard with the chair. Rollins.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re in the same boat then. It’s a tough time trying to, uh, rebuild that trust with anyone else,” Sami said sheepishly, his eyes retreating to the window, but not before he caught a glimpse of Dean’s face. Sorrow-ridden eyes, lips folding inward, grimacing like all the memories flooded back to him. Sometimes, he forgets that the whole world knows what happened. The climax of pure bliss being overturned by deception from someone you’re supposed to trust isn’t something easily forgotten, especially when no one would let you. “Kevin is...something.”

“You think he’s doing the same shit?” 

“‘The same shit?’”

“Yanno, the same shit he did to you.” Sami froze. 

"I-I don’t know. Probably? Honestly, I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Sami replied, dropping his head. “You, uh, take the bus normally, right?”

“Mhm. Love the bus. Never used to love the bus, but everybody’s fuckin’ on there, joking and talking. It’s like a funner class field trip,” Dean said. Even though his inherent know-it-all picked at him to say something, Sami chose to ignore the use of “funner.”

“Why aren’t you on the bus now?” Sami asked. 

“Needed some time for myself,” Dean replied too nonchalantly for Sami to feel secure with his choices. 

“Oh. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Sami said, heart dropping into his stomach. 

“Nah, it’s cool. One person’s easier to manage than a hundred.” Sami exhaled, his chest feeling much lighter. “Sometimes I get a little down after a show, maybe the match or segment I had didn’t go my way, and it’s nice to not have a bus full of people yammering on.” Rolling his eyes back into his skull, he did a strong nagging impression. Sami smiled. 

“I get that. I like driving by myself too. It’s nice to just be me and road and the radio and I can forget my day,” Sami said, “It’s therapeutic.”

Dean nodded. “Those driving blues, brother.”

Sami visibly winced. He knew Dean only meant well--after all, the whole male locker room was a sausage party of beefy wrestlers calling each other “brother.” Still, whenever he heard it, Kevin’s voice echoed in the back of his head.

“That sounds about right.” Sami gulped. 

“I was gonna go to one of my favorite spots in Philly for a midnight special. I don’t like to share that, but I’ll let you in on the secret for tonight, Zayn. My treat.”

“I’ll pay!” Sami quickly interjected, but Dean just laughed. 

“What part of ‘my treat’ do you need a lesson on?”

“I think I’m good, teach. I just think, you know, since you so kindly offered to take me to Philly--thank you for that, again. I really do want to make that clear--that I could repay you by paying for your meal. I think that’s fair, right? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries or anything, but I’d feel bad taking and taking and taking without giving something back,” Sami rambled, much to the amusement of Dean, whose lips upturned into a small smile. 

“I’ll assign you tip duty, ‘kay? Keep it fair and square,” Dean offered. Puffing his cheeks out, Sami gave it a moment of thought.

“That’s not entirely fair, but I think that’s as far as you’re willing to go so I’ll take you up on it.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Zayn.” Dean turned the volume up on the radio. Swirling through the car like a soundtrack to a moment, an old country station gently sizzling through the speakers. As the low production songs buzzed through static, Sami almost felt a tinge of nostalgia creating a mist around him. He appreciated the dry tone Dean often exhibited, especially in a comedic sense. Sometimes, he wished he could deliver lines as well as Dean. Or maybe, he just wanted to know him. Talking to Dean was like watching a performer; you know there’s an actor behind that character, but you don’t know how to reach him when he’s too busy keeping everyone entertained.

The interstate highway diverged from nature to industrial cityscape at around one in the morning as they reached the outskirts of Philadelphia. Dean weaved his way through back streets as if he lived here all his life. He was a self-proclaimed street rat after all, born and raised on the dirty sidewalks of Cincinnati, Ohio. Granted, Sami himself sprouted from Laval, a Canadian city not far off from Montreal, but Dean seemed to know every city like the back of his hand, as if the entire United States was mapped out in his veins, driven by his internal compass. Last time Sami drove alone, he found himself lost in the depths of Chicago for two hours before he finally stumbled upon his hotel (by accident). Having someone like Dean around was useful when you’re direction-impaired. 

They pulled up to an empty intersection. The hollowness of flickering street lights and lifeless apartment windows inspired an itch in Sami’s nerves. Darkness is only a cover-up for secrets--at least, that’s what Sami’s grandmother always said. He started to fidget with his seatbelt.

“We’re almost there. Sit tight, buckeroo,” Dean said as he looked out both windows. Sami gazed at him, admiring his curious blue eyes as they darted each way. For just an instance, he caught Dean’s eye flick over to him. Fixing his posture from the slumped position, Sami ran his fingers through his hair as he turned his head away. Another minute passed by without Sami replying. His vocal cords betrayed him again. Too late to think of something clever now, I guess. 

Shortly after, they pulled up to the curb in front of black building topped with a large sign shaped like a coffee mug reading: “Diner South Street Open 24 Hrs.” Strong “mom and pop” vibes radiated from the quaint restaurant, as if the hostess was a little old lady in an apple-print apron with a sickly sweet voice and her husband slaving over the stove in the back as he cooked up a fresh pound of bacon. That was the kind of place Sami felt closest to his family without them being there. Sami turned to Dean, who watched him with expectant eyes. He had a face that made you violently against disappointing him.

“Are we going in or what?” Sami asked, smiling like never learned how. 

Dean grinned. “Let’s get this show on the road, wingman.”

With Dean eagerly rushing into the establishment, Sami tried to keep up with the light jog pace Dean was at. That being said, it wasn’t like many other diner-goers are out this late anyway, but who knows? Dean seemed like the kind of guy that would stumble into a wormhole accidentally and decide it was a good idea to try it out. Besides the fact that Dean was his ride, Sami wasn’t fond of the idea of leaving Dean behind. They’re coworkers, first and foremost, and Sami knew that administration would slaughter him (both in the physical sense and by killing any chances he progresses in the company). Still, after tonight, Sami must admit that he would consider Dean to be somewhat of friend; though, he’d undoubtedly never say it aloud. Well, that was unless Dean said it first. 

As the waitress sat them down, Sami noticed her eyeing Dean, looking him up and down with her feline gaze as if she’s sizing him up. Of course, Dean appeared to be completely oblivious as he scoured the menu without tearing his eyes away for even a second’s glance. Beneath the table, Sami twiddled his fingers.

“What would ya like to drink?” The waitress asked. 

“Just a water. Thank you.” Sami forced a smile.

“And you, handsome?” She purred, oozing with sensuality. Sami nearly choked on his own saliva, yet somehow, Dean disregarded her tone and overt flirting entirely.

“Coffee outta do it,” Dean replied. 

Not skipping a beat, the waitress said, “I’ll be back shortly for your orders.”

As soon as she left the audible-zone, Sami said, “Sheesh. You get that a lot?” 

“Not really, but doesn’t really bother me too much,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders. Briskly changing the subject, he continued, “I try to get something new each time I come here. Think imma go for...hm… what are you gonna get?”

“Philly cheesesteak. I have to get one each time we’re here,” Sami replied, folding his menu and placing it onto the center of the table. “It’s, like, basically their city food.”

“Touche. Initiative to make decisions; I like that,” Dean flipped through the menu. “Man, I’d kill for a good steak.”

“And have a vengeful, steak-hating ghost follow you around? No thanks,” Sami said. 

“That’s just the kinda risk I’m willing to take. I’ll have my own personal ghost. Charging two bits a gander.” 

“I think the ghost would be too mad to show itself to people for you,” Sami replied thoughtfully. Placing his menu down with two taps, Dean leaned back, about to say something, when the waitress returned. 

“What’ll it be boys?” She said, yanking out her pen and paper. 

“Two cheesesteaks with some fries to go around. Thanks, darling,” Dean replied, handing her the menu. Blushing deeply, the waitress hurried off. Sami rolled his eyes.

“What?”

He took a sip of his water. “Thought you wanted a steak?”

“What’s the second half of cheesesteak, skipper?”

“Touche,” Sami laughed. “Sorry for doubting you, captain.” 

As Sami’s eyelids drooped with the weight of his exhaustion, he rested his head against the exterior of the car while Dean unlocked the door, the rattling and bustling of the city barely keeping him awake. It’s not easy sacrificing your body every night. However, Dean seemed fine, well-awake as a matter of fact. He piled into the car like an American Ninja Warrior doing parkour, flinging himself inside by holding onto the roof of the car. On the other side, Sami plopped in with a thump, slowly pressing his head against the center console. As Dean started the engine, he fiddled with the stereo until the musings of Johnny Cash finally chimed through. Humming quietly, Dean tapped his fingers along to Cocaine Blues. Now that Sami thought about it, it’s a fitting song for who Dean was as a person. From what he had unveiled about of his father, Sami could infer he’s not winning any “Father of the Year Awards.” His sweet, deep voice lulled Sami in and out of sleep, in and out of dreams of continuous highways and dreamy dazes like getting high for the very first time.

“Damn, you fallin’ asleep on me?” Sami groaned in response, earning a chuckle from Dean. “No fair. Just because we’re in the city doesn’t mean you’re alleviated of your duties.”

As Dean spoke in the same facetious monotone as always, Sami briefly lifted his head up eyes hardly open. He mumbled, “You’re right. God forbid an old lady is crossing the street.” 

“Exactly,” Dean asked, as they started driving deeper into the heart of Philly. As he spoke again, he put on his best announcer voice, “Now if you look to your front, you’ll see that we are within the city of brotherly love.”

“You could give Fink a run for his money,” Sami laughed quietly. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that, brother. Quick switch. Yanno, we’re in probably one of the most haunted cities in America, which’s got me pretty damn buzzed. Think I might actually catch a ghost tonight--like Benjamin Franklin or something.” Sami giggled, not enough to drain the little energy he had left, but enough so Dean can appreciate the attempt. 

“You think ghost Benjamin Franklin is just wandering around Philadelphia?” 

“Probably! He’s a real piece of work, yanno, and I bet I can catch him.” 

Sami grunted in affirmation. “We can go graveyard hunting later, but I’m shot for tonight.”

“Oh shit, man down. Where you stayin’ tonight, Zayn?” Dean asked, slowing to a stop at a redlight before glancing over. 

Without a second of pause, Sami muttered, “Wherever you’re staying.” 

Dean didn’t reply or maybe Sami fell asleep before he could hear it. 

Somehow, Dean managed to haul a tired Sami and their luggage up to their hotel room soundly. He must have anyway, as Sami awoke early that morning, face-to-face with a very much asleep Dean. Startled, Sami jolted slightly, a trail of drool connected to the pillow following suit. Suddenly, his skin crawled, thousands of nails simultaneously digging into his flesh and wriggling within in his bloodstream. His ribcage could bruise with how hard his heart pounded against it, like a woodpecker on a tree. Sami couldn’t help, but stare as Dean’s chest expanded as he breathed, his snores muffled by half of his face burrowed into white sheets, his shaggy hair dangling over his eyes and onto the pillow. Holding his breath, Sami lowered himself back into his crease in the cheap mattress. Hesitantly, he closed his eyes, trying to ease the beating drum in his chest so painfully loud that he feared Dean might awake if he couldn’t weather the storm creating a whirlpool inside him. 

Groaning, Dean shifted closer to Sami, the top of his head barely resting on Sami’s shoulder, but it was enough to send a shockwave down his spine. Paralyzed, Sami felt the weight of Aphrodite's shell bearing down on him all at once. This was the closest he had gotten to first base in a long time and the person wasn’t even awake. He could feel the blood manuely pumping into his cheeks. 

“Sami...” Dean murmured. Now, he was positive he didn’t have a pulse at all anymore. Sami peeped one eye open. Dean appeared to be still asleep, his face serene, lips slightly parted. Well, Sami guessed that meant Dean knew he was here. His eyes blink open, the ocean blue of his irises sending a wave of warmth within Sami. 

“Sami,” he said, much clearer now, his voice a crackling fire, raspy and raw. Sami gulped. 

“Good morning, Dean,” Sami said breathily, averting his gaze to his own body.

“Mmm, mornin’,” he mumbled, snuggling into the fold between the bed and Sami’s body. He tried to speak again, but Sami couldn’t catch what he said. 

“Speak up, captain,” Sami said softly. 

“You shouldn’t have let me drink that coffee,” he grumbled. To be fair, Sami greatly urged Dean not to indulge in caffeine so deep into the night, but Dean took a big swig, looking him dead in the eyes, just to spite him.

“If you don’t mind, sir. I’m gonna get up now,” Sami said. Furrowing his brows, Dean shook his head. 

“What time is it?” 

“It’s half past you can’t sleep all day because we have a show tonight o’clock” Sami replied snarkily, sitting back against the headboard. Dean moved his head so it laid too close to Sami’s groin for comfort, yet he was seemingly unaware of where he was. 

“Fuck that, Zayn. Watch me.”

“I literally might have to. You’re like a dog sleeping on me like that. I don’t wanna disturb you,” Sami said, rubbing the nape of his neck. 

“Fine. How ‘bout instead of watching me, you come back down here?” Dean asked, propping himself up on his elbow with all the might he had at nine in the morning. As he slinked down into the covers, his mind blew out, a static screen overthrowing thought. Smiling, Dean wrapped his arms around Sami, nestling his head into the crease of Sami’s neck. He could feel each hot breath melting into his skin. Sami felt like he was standing toe-to-toe with golden gates, atop clouds laced with sugar. And he’s not even Christian. “Much better.” 

As if his rib cage collapsed, Sami’s lungs bared a heavy burden, air lodged deep in his throat. Rose pink tainted his freckled cheeks. The fabric from Dean’s black tank top and his soft skin met with Sami’s gross old t-shirt causing a forest of goosebumps to sprout across his back like seedlings. Is this second base? His muscles tense. He doesn’t think you can get to second base without going to first, but maybe he’s misreading the situation. Lightly, fingertips lightly trace along his arm, up and down then in circles as if he’s writing poetry with his touch. Sami exhaled. 

“Relax, Sami,” Dean whispered. “I don’t bite, unless of course, you want me to, but that’s a long legal process.”

“I guess I’ll work on the paperwork for that?” Sami said, unsure of himself. Was this flirting?

“And I’ll gather the committee to consider the contract for permission to bite you, but it may take awhile.”

“I’ve got time.” 

For a moment, Dean didn’t reply. “That’s good. All you could ever ask for.”

“That’s cryptic. Care to clarify, captain?” Dean sighed, sitting back on his elbow again. A frog in lodged in his throat, Sami turned to face him, now lying on his back and staring up at Dean. 

“I liked ridin’ with you, Zayn. We should, uh, do that again. Cure those driving blues and all,” Dean said, avoiding eye contact. Nope, still first base. Play it cool, Zayn  
“I’m glad you said that actually because I had such a nice time. I kinda thought I looked like a total dork and uh, yeah, I liked...riding with you...too.” 

“Nothin’ wrong with being a dork. I like it.”

“Oh really? Thank you, Dean,” Sami said, trying to hide his giddiness. Grinning, Dean fell back onto the bed, engulfing Sami into his arms. 

“That’s captain to you, skipper.” A pause, followed by a hard swallow and a pensive look. “Do you like Finn?” 

“He’s probably my closest friend, so yeah.”

“I meant, like, yanno” Dean fumbled with his words. Sami’s eyes widened. 

“Oh! No, no. Not like that. Friends, Dean.” Sami sighed. “It’s mean to, uh, poke the single bear. One day, you’ll...find...that, uh, you’re the honey? I’m sorry I thought that would work, but it just sounds sexual.”

“Me? Sweet and yummy? I’ll take it. Besides, who said anything about makin’ fun of you? Be a star or whatever.” Sami couldn’t help, but laugh at that. 

Much to his surprise, Dean rolled Sami over so he landed on top of him, swiftly planting his lips against Sami’s all too fast for Sami to process. A second lapsed by before Sami moved, their lips waltzing to the sound of muted breaths. While one hand cupped his face, Dean’s other hand entangled in Sami’s red hair, tugging and brushing gently through. Too soon, Dean pulled away from the kiss. Still, they were so close, lips just centimeters apart, foreheads grazing as if they’re afraid to separate in case this moment ends forever.

“Did that just happen?” Sami whispered.

“Sure did. You with me from now on? I don’t think I can stand it otherwise, Zayn. I know I’m a closed book and not a real dreamboat and my demeanor leaves something to be desired and maybe this happening too fast, but I really think we got something here.” 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that, Dean. I’d like that a lot.”


End file.
